Cuppy Cakes and Cigarette Smoke
by Bitter Shadow
Summary: Fun loving cupcake maker Oliver and alcoholic Francis seem like two very odd and very different people. But they do have something in common; Their absolute, unrefined bloodlust. But does Francis have a little crush over the psycho? And if so, how do you tell an insane murder you have hearts for them? And not just the ones you cut out of people for his baking?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own 2p (no matter how much I wish) or the wonderful cover picture. I wrote this listening to Oliver's song, Dirty Night Clowns, seriously check it out it is like about him: youtube watch?v = Fbip6Tvhlyw (remove spaces)

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"Awful dreary weather," Oliver whistled as he walked, swinging his closed yellow umbrella with red polka dots in circles. In his other hand he was swinging a cloth bag. He looked over to the hunched figure next to him. "Francis? Are you still in there?" His walking companion only grunted in response.

They were a strange sight, to say the least. The tall bristly figure, even slumping, was still looming over the cheerful red head. His hair was a shade of orange almost pink, like fruity soda froth. His pale face was covered in matching freckles. He wore a neon green bow tie over his usual purple vest and pink shirt. His pants were just black, but covered in flour and old stains. He walked with a skip in his step. He practically glowed in the mid morning gray, after a heavy rain last night.

His partner, on the other hand, couldn't be blending in better. His blonde hair fell to his shoulder in fraying strands, and his chin was covered in gray stubble from a half ass attempt at shaving every once in a while. His eyes had permanent bags and a cigarette could be found hanging out of his scowling mouth. His clothes were as gray as he was and he had a baggy trench coat thrown over his outfit.

"Alright, we're back at your house, Oliver," Francis grumbled, sticking his hand in his pocket, searching for a lighter. "I'm leaving now." In all un-admitted honesty, he was worried about the mental case. He watched as Oliver pull out a key from his sticker decorated wallet, sliding the bag down his arm to his elbow.

"I keep telling you poppet, call me Ollie," He smiled, oblivious to his friend's worry.

"Just...just you better be more damn careful." Francis sighed, scratching the back of his head. Oliver flinched at the curse word. "Explain again, what exactly did I walk into?"

"How many times must I say it, poppet? All I did was I came to visit you when two men attacked me for my money. I stabbed the one to death and the other one...I had a bit more fun, yes? And then you came out of your house _swearing_," He spoke the word like it itself was evil. "And then, well, you know the rest. We cut them up and now I can bake more cupcakes!" He lifted up his elbow, bringing the bag up higher, but no where close to Francis' line of sight.

"Why were you coming to visit me? I thought I told you to leave me alone." Oliver's face saddened, and Francis instantly regretted his words. "I mean, just, I thought I told you I was bust today." He lied quickly, trying to save the rainbow boy from tears.

"I wanted to bring you a pie..." He laughed. "I guess it's someone else's pie now, because we left it back in the street by your place."

The blonde man rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. "And what, may I ask, exactly were in that pie?" This could mean trouble.

"Nothing the police could trace, love," Ollie said casually, which made Francis even more suspicious.

"And you were planning on feeding me it?" Oliver waved him off dismissively, as if his motions said "you'd know better than to accept it anyway."

"Say, poppet, do you think Alfie likes cupcakes with or without the glitter? I think these could use the extra sparkle," He said, breaking the silence and Francis' composure.

"How would I know? I don't care, that boy can go to hell for all I care. Why do you want to know? Why are you making cupcakes for him anyway?" He crossed his arms across his chest.

Ollie giggled, giving the umbrella another twirl. "I thought he'd like them, and you shouldn't be jealous, I won't stop making you cupcakes."

"Jealous? Why would I be jealous of that stupid punk?" Oliver shrugged, then did something he did something that should've been no big deal, because it was Oliver. It should've just meant nothing.

He stood on his tip toes and gave Francis a kiss on the cheek. "See you later then, love!" And unlocked the front door, skipping into the house and shutting it behind him.

Francis stood there, dumbfounded, his hand at his cheek. He turned on his heel and stormed off, hands in fists at his sides. "T-that asshole..." He glanced up at the swirling gray sky and knew the feeling.


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm going to regret this..." Francis mumbled into his pillow as he reached for his cell phone. He hadn't been able to focus on anything that day. Hour after hour, he couldn't get Oliver out of his head. Why damn it all why? He guessed he was still worried. He glared up from his pillow and clicked on the bright screen. He dialed Oliver slowly, still reconsidering. He didn't want the boy to get the wrong idea and think he enjoyed calling, or socializing of any kind. He limply held it up to his ear anyway.

"Ello, Kirkland home?" Ollie answered, cheerful as ever. "Ring Around the Rosie" could be heard blaring in the background, along with the dinging of an oven and the roar of a vacuum.

"Bonjour." Francis grumbled through a mouthful of pillow. He could almost hear Oliver lighting up over the phone.

"Well isn't this a nice surprise! You never call me! I thought you had lost my number! Hang on, let me get the oven." The sound muffled and he could hear Oliver's feet bouncing across the kitchen. As the phone was readjusted Francis sighed impatiently. "So, what's the call for, love?"

"I just wanted to check on you," He gritted out. "What's all the noise going on over there?"

"Oh just some baking and cleaning."

"Didn't you just clean it?"

"The place is a mess, Bonnefoy! I can't leave it like this!" As far as Francis was concerned, which wasn't very far, the place was always almost spotless. He had began to think of Ollie as a stress cleaner.

"Whatever. You're alive. That's great. I'm going to hang up now." Francis immediately killing any signs of ability to function in a social situation.

Oliver sounded a little deflated, but he kept a joyful tone to his voice. "Well then, bye bye poppet. Don't be such a stranger to the phone, alright?"

Ollie had the phone balanced on his shoulder so he could multitask, but he stopped to listen to the gentle fizzing sound the phone made when the other end hung up. He placed down the tray of cupcakes on the table so he could put the phone back down it's holder. Alfred kept trying to convince him to get a cell phone, but he liked the wire. It was the only tangible connector in a conversation over the phone.

He flopped down into his chair, resting his chin in his hand. He kicked his legs back in forth lazily, thinking over the phone call. It wasn't like Francis to call him. He reached one hand behind him, his eyes focused dreamily elsewhere. He grasped a bottle of pills and brought the forward. He poured out a couple of the prescription medicine onto the table top and crushed it into dust with the side of his knife.

He whistled along with the music, reaching out for the bowl of frosting also resting on the table, which he had made while the cupcakes were cooking. He dumped the lethal dust into the mixture. His fingers danced across the table to his wooden spoon. The medicine disappeared into the pink goop. He was snapped out of his daydream state as the phone rang again.

He got up and wiped his hands off on his frilly apron, sighing defeatedly. "I'll just have to frost those later." He picked up the phone, half hoping it was Francis again. "Kirkland residence?"

"Daisy! It's been a while!" The girl on the other end squealed. "How ya been?"

"May Rose!" He cheered. "This is quite the surprise! I thought the cops found you out!"

"Please, baby cakes, momma can handle herself. Now, answer me, how's it been?"

He twirled the phone wire around his finger. "Good as it's ever been. Bay leaf had just called a moment ago, actually."

"You're kidding? That's wonderful! I'm so happy for you!"

"It...it was just a phone call, May Rose. No big deal..."

"Ooh, don't give me that! I know you two well enough to know a call from that introvert bay leaf is a big deal. I can hear it in your voice, come on, you're excited!"

"A little...I guess..." He shoved a strand of hair behind his ear. "And what about you? How have you been?"

"Pretty good, baby cakes. You still live where you do? Because I'm in in the area and thought maybe I could stop by, whenever you're ready of course..."

He nodded quickly, tripping over his own feet. "Of course! I'd love to have you! HowTomas tomorrow work?"

"Good!" She giggled. "See you then!"

"Bye May Rose," He breathed, setting the phone back down and drifting onto the couch. Too many good surprises today.

"Mhm, bye," She answered, setting the phone back down onto the tray the man dressed in black was holding out. "You hear that boys? Ollie's in town. Clear up my schedule."

"Of course, how much must be cleared?"

She crossed one leg over the other, her dark lipstick smile growing venomous. "The whole day. It should be over relatively quickly, but I need to spend some time thinking of a good hiding place. Oliver's a special case, no?"

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Phew! Chapter two! And you thought this was going to be like some sort of fluff piece? Well, so did I. It's taking an interesting turn for sure though. Thank you for reading, my friends, and once again, I don't own 2p.


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